Living with Now Faith

I've been thinking about this week's revival.

Not because every question I had was answered, but because it left me with new questions. I think that's one of the ways God works. Sometimes He doesn't overwhelm us with information. Sometimes He plants a seed that keeps growing long after we've left the church.

As I think about everything James Cowan shared over those three nights, one theme has stayed with me.

Now faith.

It wasn't just a phrase he repeated. It was the thread that ties everything together. The more I listened, the more I realized he wasn't asking whether we believed God could do something. Most Christians would answer that question with a quick "yes."

The real question is whether we believe He can do it now.

That hit me a little harder than I expected.

I don't have any trouble believing God can heal. I believe He restores broken lives. I believe He saves people who seem impossible to reach. I believe He still performs miracles.

But if I'm honest, sometimes my prayers tell a different story.

I pray believing He's able, yet somewhere in the back of my mind I quietly expect the answer to come later. Maybe after enough time has passed. Maybe after enough people pray. Maybe after I've grown a little more.

James kept bringing us back to the present.

One powerful statement he made was:

"Yesterday is a prison. Tomorrow is an illusion."

I find myself thinking about those words.

How often do I live in one of those two places?

Sometimes I find myself looking backward. I replay conversations I wish had gone differently. I remember hurts that happened years ago, and if I'm not careful, I start letting those moments shape how I see today. Other times I push everything into tomorrow. I'll trust God more later. I'll spend more time in His Word when life slows down. I'll believe for bigger things when my faith is stronger.

Meanwhile, God keeps calling me back to today.

That pattern is all through Scripture.

Joel writes, "Even now," declares the Lord, "return to me with all your heart" ~Joel 2:12.

Paul reminds us, "Now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation" ~2 Corinthians 6:2.

Even when Moses asked God His name, God answered, "I AM WHO I AM" ~Exodus 3:14.

Not "I was."

Not "I will be."

I AM.

God has always revealed Himself in the present.

James pointed out that every miracle in Scripture required a "now."

Noah couldn't wait until it started raining before building the ark. Moses walked toward the Red Sea before it parted. Peter climbed out of the boat before he knew the water would hold him.

Faith has never waited until everything made sense.

It has always responded first.

One quote I wrote down immediately was this:

"Seeds planted tomorrow will never harvest today."

The more I think about it, the more I realize how often I'm asking God for today's harvest while postponing today's obedience.

That wasn't the only thing that stayed with me.

James spent a lot of time talking about the glory of God, and I'll admit, I find myself seeing that word differently.

When I think about God's glory, I naturally picture something beautiful. Peaceful. Almost predictable.

But God's glory isn't predictable.

It doesn't fit inside the neat little boxes we've built for Him. Denominations, traditions, or our expectations don't control it. James reminded us that God's glory doesn't ask for our permission, and it certainly doesn't stop because someone is uncomfortable.

God is still God.

Psalm 115:3 says, "Our God is in heaven; He does whatever pleases Him."

That verse suddenly came to life for me.

How often do I expect God to move according to my plan? I pray with my own picture of what the answer should look like, and then wonder why He chose a different path.

James reminded us that God doesn't work the same way in every person's life.

That can be hard.

It's easy to look at someone else's story and wonder why God answered their prayer differently than ours. Why they were healed. Why their breakthrough happened sooner. Why their family seems restored while ours is still waiting.

Comparison has always been a thief.

The more we focus on what God is doing for someone else, the easier it is to miss what He's trying to do in us. Whew...let me say that again: the more we focus on what God is doing for someone else, the easier it is to miss what He's trying to do in us.

One thing I appreciated about James' message was that he encouraged us not to focus on everyone else's life.

He kept bringing us back to our own hearts.

One of the strongest statements he made was,

"Shut up and get to the altar."

The room got quiet.

Because if we're honest, it's much easier to talk about what's wrong with the world than it is to let God deal with what's wrong in us.

We can spend hours discussing politics, cultures, churches, denominations, and what everyone else should be doing differently.

Meanwhile, the Holy Spirit is quietly asking us a much more personal question.

What do I need to change?

James talked about how God's glory shines a light on what is hidden, and I find myself thinking about that a lot. We don't usually enjoy having things exposed, but maybe that's because we misunderstand what God is doing. His light isn't meant to condemn us or make us feel ashamed.

It's meant to bring freedom.

Sometimes that light reveals pride we've learned to excuse. Sometimes it's unforgiveness or bitterness we've carried for so long that we've stopped noticing how much it's shaped our hearts. Other times, it's simply our reluctance to surrender something God has been asking us to lay down. None of that is comfortable, but maybe it isn't supposed to be. If we're willing to let Him search our hearts, those uncomfortable moments often become the very place where real change begins.

While I continue to think about everything that was shared, another illustration James used keeps coming back to me.

He said if you're in high school, you shouldn't still be doing the things you did in kindergarten.

We expect children to grow. We expect them to mature. No one would celebrate a teenager who still thought and behaved like a five-year-old.

But he wasn't really talking about school.

He was talking about us.

The longer I think about that, the more I find myself asking some uncomfortable questions.

Am I growing in my relationship with Christ?

Do I know Him better than I did a year ago?

Am I quicker to forgive? Am I slower to become angry? Do people see more of Jesus in me than they did five years ago?

Or have I become comfortable?

Sometimes we confuse church attendance with spiritual growth. We can faithfully sit in the same pew or chair every Sunday, know all the right verses, sing all the songs, and still not be allowing the Holy Spirit to change us.

James said something that made me think.

If we're still carrying anger from things that happened years ago, we won't let go of that anger until we're in the right relationship with the Father.

Think about that.

Our natural response is to believe healing comes when the other person apologizes or when enough time passes. Yet Scripture points us somewhere entirely different. James 4:8 says, "Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you."

The closer we get to the Father, the more He begins changing us from the inside out.

That doesn't mean the hurt wasn't real.

It doesn't mean what happened didn't matter.

It means God is able to heal places that we could never heal on our own.

Maybe that's why David prayed, "Search me, O God, and know my heart" ~Psalm 139:23.

He understood that real change begins with allowing God to reveal what's inside of us before we spend our energy trying to change everyone else.

That was another part of the revival that has challenged me.

James talked about how quickly we point fingers.

If we're honest, that's become pretty common; not just in the world, but in the Church.

We notice what everyone else is doing wrong. We criticize people who don't think like us, worship like us, or attend the same church we do.

It's much easier to examine someone else's life than our own.

But Jesus consistently turned that around. Before He addressed the speck in someone else's eye, He told us to deal with the plank in our own (Matthew 7:3-5).

That isn't always easy.

Sometimes it's easier to talk about revival than it is to let revival happen in our own heart.

One comment James made cut straight to the heart of the issue:

"Deliverance is not difficult. Change is."

At first, I wasn't quite sure what to make of that statement. But the more I pray about it, the more I begin to understand what James meant. God can set someone free in a moment. He can forgive instantly, break chains, and completely change the direction of a person's life. That's the miracle only He can do.

But learning to live in that freedom is different. That's where surrender comes in. Every day we're faced with a choice. Will we walk with the Holy Spirit, or will we drift back toward the same habits, attitudes, and ways of thinking we've always known? Change isn't a single moment at the altar; it's a lifelong decision to keep saying yes to God, even when it's difficult.

That led me to another thought James shared throughout the revival: we weren't created for normal. Somewhere along the way, I think we've settled for a version of Christianity that's comfortable and predictable. Yet, Jesus never called us to simply attend church or collect Bible knowledge while leaving our hearts unchanged. He called us to follow Him, and following Him should continually transform the way we live.

James used Noah as an example of what it means to be about our Father's business, and I thought that was such a powerful picture. Scripture tells us that Noah found favor with God and walked faithfully with Him (Genesis 6:8-9). While the world around him ignored God and continued living as if He didn't matter, Noah remained faithful to what God had called him to do. He kept building the ark, even when no one else understood why.

That made me wonder how often I let the opinions of other people and even the opinion I have of myself influence my obedience. Noah wasn't driven by approval or popularity. He was driven by faith. He kept doing what God asked him to do, trusting that obedience was enough, even before he saw the rain.

He obeyed.

Even when people laughed.

Even when it didn't make sense.

Even before he saw a single drop of rain.

The same could be said of Abraham. The same could be said of Moses. None of them had a completed Bible sitting on a table beside them. Yet they knew God because they walked with Him.

That doesn't lessen the importance of Scripture.

If anything, it should make us treasure it even more.

We have the privilege of holding God's Word in our hands every day. The question is whether we're allowing it to shape our lives or increase our knowledge.

James encouraged us to go deeper into Scripture, and I think that's something every believer needs. Not just reading a verse before rushing out the door, but slowing down long enough to study it, dwell on it, and allow it to shape the way we think and live.

God's Word was never meant to simply fill our minds with knowledge. It corrects us, encourages us, and reveals more of who God is. The deeper we know His Word, the more clearly we'll recognize His voice when He speaks.

As I think about that, another question comes to mind. Am I living with a continual awareness of God's presence throughout my day? I talk with Him often and know He's with me, but am I paying attention to what He's doing in the ordinary moments and responding when He prompts my heart?

It's one thing to spend time with God in prayer or in His Word. It's another to carry that same awareness into the rest of the day, while I'm driving, running errands, or having a conversation with a friend. I don't want my relationship with God to be something I experience only during my quiet time. I want His presence to shape the way I think, speak, love, and respond in every part of my life.

As the revival continued, James encouraged us to think about our own community. He reminded us that being about our Father's business isn't something we do only inside the walls of a church. Jesus never told His followers to wait for hurting people to find them. He told them to go; to love, to serve, to pray, and to carry the hope they had found wherever they went.

Then James shared a story that was both heartbreaking and convicting. He talked about a woman who had sat in the same chair for more than a year. She had become so neglected that she eventually became physically attached to it. What made the story even more heartbreaking was that people from her church had seen her week after week. It wasn't until someone noticed she "wasn't acting like herself" that they finally called for help, even though she'd been sitting in that same chair all along.

I can't stop thinking about that.

How many people do we see every week without really seeing them? How many people smile while carrying grief, depression, anxiety, addiction, loneliness, or hopelessness?

How many quietly whisper, "I'm fine," hoping someone will notice that they're really not?

That story wasn't just about one woman. It became a mirror for me.

How often have I been so busy that I've missed someone God placed right in front of me? How many opportunities have I overlooked because I assumed someone else would step in? Revival shouldn't only change what happens inside the church. It should change the way we see people once we walk back out the doors.

One quote from James has come to mind: "Don't hang your hat on people's opinions. Hang it on the glory of God." The more I think about those words, the more freedom I find in them. If I'm always worried about what people think, I'll hesitate when God asks me to speak, serve, pray, or reach out. But when my life is anchored in Him instead of people's approval, obedience becomes much simpler.

Before the revival came to a close, James shared one final thought that tied it together for me: "If you lay it down, leave it down. When God shuts you in, don't open it."

How many times have I prayed, surrendered something to God, and then quietly picked it back up before the day was over? Maybe faith isn't as complicated as we sometimes make it. Maybe it's trusting that when God says, "I've got this," He really does.

While I continue thinking about those three nights, I keep coming back to the same question.

Am I living with now faith?

The kind of faith that believes God is still moving today. The kind of faith that trusts Him enough to obey before seeing the outcome. The kind of faith that allows His glory to search my own heart before I point at someone else's. The kind of faith that notices the hurting person sitting quietly nearby instead of assuming someone else will care for them.

I don't want revival to become another event I remember.

I want it to change the way I pray, the way I trust, the way I love, and the way I see people.

Because that's what "now faith" really looks like.

It's believing that God is still at work today, and being willing to join Him.